Classic Poem

Happy Times

How smoothly glided then my happy days,
When things to charm my mind and sight were nigh.

The glitt'ring brook, that wander'd round my home,
With rock-shot foam downfalling white, was nigh.

And glossy-winged rooks, above the grove,
Off-sweeping round their tree in flight, were nigh.

And daws above the castle's ragged walls,
And ivy-hooded tower's height, were nigh.

A bower, outhollow'd in a hedge of yew,
Would yield me shelter'd rest, when night was nigh.

And in the dusk of moonshades, near the door,
My playsome children, skipping light, were nigh.

And there I never met a grief half way,
In thinking ev'ry day a blight was nigh.

But found it best, with thankfulness and care,
To feel that He that is our might was nigh.English